Jim and I returned from our vacation a little over a week ago. After more than three weeks on the road, traveling began to replace home. Every night last week I'd fall asleep on the couch and wake up confused. I'd scan the room in the glow of the TV and wonder where I was and what train I needed to catch. The television screen seemed too large and bright. I'd slowly realize I was on a couch, not a bed, and gradually remember the plane trip back. Then I'd rise and make my way to bed neither relieved nor disappointed to find myself at home.
I'm already restless to go somewhere, but I've also been seeing my home with new appreciation. Combines reaping golden fields in clouds of sunlit dust. Long grass along the roadsides in shades of bronze and copper; the maple tree in my back yard turning vivid red while the neighbor's ash blushes purple. The sun rises and sets in swaths of orange and crimson and sweeps across a broad blue sky. Home is beautiful and plain.
Today write about returning from a journey. How are the character's perceptions of home changed by travel? How has the character changed?
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